


The Witching Hour

by ive_been_losing_sleep



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Slow Burn, also y'all i finished this in time for halloween i am so proud, and also very much requited bokuaka, and kenma doesn't know what he's in for, but also just a couple hours, but don't worry this is still very much kenhina, he's a kitty cat, hinata doesn't even show up till about 4000 words, i mean it takes them a few years to get together, ish, let's get a little spoopy up in here, meanwhile hinata's just an average little human, my precious son, unrequited bokuroo, yokai!kenma, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 02:43:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8428372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ive_been_losing_sleep/pseuds/ive_been_losing_sleep
Summary: The Witching Hour:The time of night in which the world is at its quietestAnd the demons walk amongst mortals





	

**Author's Note:**

> it's time to get spooky

_It’s probably not something you can understand_

 

There was a Halloween before Hinata Shouyou. 

Just one. 

And it was Bokuto Koutarou’s fault. 

“I have to go.” Kuroo stood in front of the door. A heavy coat buried him, and a leather backpack hung from his shoulders. His tails fell from his back stiffly. 

“You don’t want to,” Kenma said. An ear twitched anxiously. 

“I have to,” Kuroo repeated. 

“Then I go, too.”

Kuroo grinned. The smile was shot over his shoulder, and his teeth glowed white in the dark. One fang glistened frighteningly. 

“Hurry up.” He shrugged the bag higher on his shoulders. Swiftly, Kenma moved to stand beside him. Their tails brushed together briefly, then pull apart. “The Witching Hour is about to begin.”

 

The human world was dark. 

Darker than Kenma’s world. 

At odd intervals, poles of light attempted to alleviate the oppressive black, but the flickering bulbs only made the night more ominous. Houses lined either side of the street, usually closed up and shut tight. Occasionally, a house was illuminated, silhouettes passing over the windows and loud sounds bursting from its walls. Kenma and Kuroo took care to avoid those houses, sinking deeper into the darkness surrounding them and sneaking past warily. 

The streets were littered with colored wrappers, reds and purples advertising ‘ _Skittles_ ’ and ‘ _Hershey’s_ ’ and ‘ _Twix._ ’ Crudely put-together plastic skeletons hung in front of doors, and crumbling gravestones erupted from dead lawns. Jack-o-lanterns lined the driveways, lopsided faces lit with flickering candles.Decorations with glowing eyes screeched as they skittered past, and Kuroo nearly fell over when a skeleton dog yapped at him from a porch. 

It was unsettling. 

Drawing his jacket closer to himself, Kenma asked, “How do we find Bokuto?”

Kuroo tugged on the watch on his wrist. 

_12:56_

Two hours left. 

“I- I don’t-”

“You don’t know, do you?”

“Well, I’m sorry for not thinking of a plan about what to do if my best friend ended up trapped in the human world, Kenma!” he snapped. Kenma blinked at him, waiting, and Kuroo pushed his fingers through his hair. 

“There was a boy,” Kuroo said slowly. They passed under a street lamp, and the fluttering light extinguished as they step underneath. “A human boy. That Bo took an interest in.”

Kenma’s tails went rigid. 

“A human.” Kenma repeated. 

“I _know_ ,” Kuroo growled in response. “Just a normal. Plain. Human. Boy.” He punctuated each adjective pointedly, but his anger was drowned by a tone of defeat. “And Bo thought he was special.”

A thought curled its way into the front of Kenma’s brain, and the tip of his left tail twitched.

“Do you think,” Kenma began tentatively, pausing along the darkened edge of a streetlight, “that maybe Bo didn’t get stuck here.” Kuroo froze, and his lips pulled back into a defensive snarl. “Maybe he chose-”

“He _didn’t_.” His voice cracked as it slipped through his teeth, splintering in the cold air. “He _wouldn’t_.” 

“Kuro.”

“He would’ve at least _told_ me,” he cried. The brown of his irises melted, shining an angry iridescent gold as he stalked past Kenma. “He wouldn’t have just- just abandoned-” He hiccuped, hiding his face in the safety of darkness.

Kenma sighed and hurried to catch up. Gently, he touched the tip of one tail to Kuroo’s leg. “Do you remember where the human boy lived?”

Kuroo’s ears perked as he nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I think so.”

“Well, let’s start there. I can’t imagine many places that Bokuto could’ve hid for a year, but I’d imagine that the house of the human he liked might be one of them.”

 

“This is it,” Kuroo said, jerking his head at the dim house in front of them. “This is where the human lived.”

The house next door was lively, lit up with flashing lights and blaring loud, thundering music through the walls. Shouts and cheers broke through the heavy bass as the people inside celebrated. 

But the house of the human was dark. No sounds rose from the inside, and not a single light poured from its windows. 

“It’s dark,” Kenma commented. He was sunk low beneath a row of bushes, out of sight from any human that might glance over from the neighboring house. While they didn’t appear out of the ordinary to the typical human eye, with their tails and ears hidden away from the gaze of most, Kenma still preferred to avoid any unnecessary attention.

“I _know_ ,” Kuroo whined, low in his throat. “What if he’s not there? What are we-”

“Kuro,” Kenma cut him off. “One step at a time.”

Jerkily, Kuroo nodded. “I’ll ring the doorbell.”

Kenma grabbed him by a tail before he could step out from behind the bushes. When Kuroo glanced down at him questioningly, Kenma quirked an eyebrow. The universal signal for _‘are you sure that’s a good idea?’_

The hairs under Kenma’s palm bristle, but Kuroo must have understood Kenma’s reasoning enough to sit down without further questions. “Well then what do you suggest,” he growled. 

“There’s a note on the door.”

Kuroo poked his head over the bush, narrowing his eyes at the porch. Taped to the door was a white slip of paper marked with purple pen. An empty, orange bowl decorated with small black shapes sat below it. 

He squinted. “‘Not home. Take only one,’” he read out loud. “Fuck!”

Kenma reached over, tugging at Kuroo’s wrists before he could claw desperately at his hair. “Hold on,” he instructed without looking away from the sign on the door. “There’s smaller handwriting on it too.”

Next to the neat, purple letters, a much messier scrawl read, “‘We’re at the rockin’ party next door if you need us!!! (but don’t need us, please).’” Beneath it were several small doodles of bats, pumpkins and skulls in matching orange pen. 

“Huh,” Kenma murmured, unimpressed. Beside him, Kuroo yanked on the hands locked around his wrists, eager to crash the party next door. 

“C’mon, c’mon, _c’mon_ ,” he growled. He pulled one arm free, and his wrist watch flashes against the darkness, its bright red numbers catching Kenma’s eye, drawing him out from behind the bushes to step toward the house. 

_1:42_

Just a little over an hour left. 

Kenma dropped Kuroo’s other arm. 

His companion vanished in an instant. Kenma’s eyes watch, waiting, and movement reappeared along the near wall of the neighboring house. Kuroo pressed a hand against it, his claws digging into the side enough to leave small indents, as he stared at the house in front of him. His tails danced behind him impatiently. 

The desperation rolled off him in waves.

Kenma moved to stand beside him, touching Kuroo’s shoulder with one hand and gesturing to a nearby window with another. With clumsily eager steps, Kuroo fell against the wall and peered around the edge of the pane to peek inside. 

He recoiled immediately. 

“There are too many of them,” he sneered. But his eyes roamed back in curiosity, and it wasn’t longer before he turned for another look. 

Kenma joined him, crouching low so that he could peek over the sill. 

It was crowded. The human bodies were pressed together, touching and moving and _shoving_ against one another. In their hands were cups and bottles of sloshy, foaming liquids that spilled onto themselves and the people around them. Most of them were dressed in some kind of costume, mocking angel wings and skeletons and cats. 

Kenma’s own tails curled closer to his body, tucking themselves away safely while his ears pressed flat against his skull. 

. 

Kuroo whined pathetically. “I don’t see him.”

_Bokuto_ , Kenma reminded himself. 

He forcibly pulled his eyes away from a girl with fabric cat ears pinned into her hair. 

“What about the human?” Kenma asked. “Do you recognize him?”

A pause spread between them as Kuroo looks over the crowd. “No,” he sighed.

Humming, Kenma drew himself away from the window. “Well,” he said, luring Kuroo toward the front porch of the house, “there’s only so much we can see from the outside, I guess.”

Kuroo froze, one foot poised on the front steps leading to the door. “We’re going inside,” he realized. 

The tone of his tugged on Kenma. He was hesitant, trepidatious, cautious. 

But he also sounded awed. 

_Intrigued._

Kenma refused to let the feeling gnaw on him. 

 

They blended into the crowd easily. 

Their long, winding tails and pointed ears drew no curious eyes and, even if they had been out of place, the humans were all too self-absorbed to spare them their attention. 

But the people around them, no matter how unobservant, _suffocated_ Kenma.

Every hot, stagnant breath trailed down his spine, reeking of sharp alcohol and hazy smoke. Their voices impaled him, smothering him beneath raucous laughter and the heavy sound of their music. Bodies pressed against him, dragging him and toppling him with their weight. 

One girl stumbled into Kenma, leaning into his side and pressing the toe of one heel over the tip of his tail. A sharp yowl fell onto his tongue, and Kenma bit down hard enough that his teeth clacked together, suppressing it into a shrill hiccup. The girl’s head swiveled, drooping heavily to one side, and she blinked at him lazily. A filmy sheen covered her unfocused eyes.

“Sorry,” she breathed against his shoulder, and Kenma ducked away hastily. He ignored her quiet huff as she tipped over behind him. 

A familiar hand grabbed his wrist and yanked him forward. “We’re checking upstairs,” Kuroo said, elbowing his way through the humans as Kenma trailed behind slowly. The smell of the girl - hot and putrid - still hung over him like a smoke cloud, and his fingers itched at his pants in discomfort. 

They circumvented a group sitting on the steps of the stairs, forced to step over their heads to move past. Four of them laughed raucously, snapping at their heels with bony fingers and dramatically tugging on their pant legs in an attempt to pull them down. The fifth groaned miserably, resting his arms on his knees and burying his face behind them. 

Kenma’s foot slipped. His heel collided with the human’s nose. 

He didn’t turn at the angry shouts rising behind him. 

The upstairs was just as crowded as the down. The stairs t-bone into a hallway. Peering down the left, Kenma can only see a few doors, each shut tightly. One held a sock hanging from the doorknob. 

The sounds of voices came from the right, and Kuroo tugged him around the corner. 

 

Kenma saw Bokuto immediately. 

He was always easy to spot. Tall. Odd hair. _Loud_. 

Even amongst the humans, his voice towered over the others. The group he stood in surrounded a long, green table covered in cups. Whenever someone would bounce a ball into a cup, and another would take a hasty gulp, he’d shout, whooping and hollering. 

He was enjoying himself. 

There were wings on his back, perched precariously between his shoulder blades and spreading stiffly past his shoulders. For a brief moment, Kenma was relieved. 

But then he realized that the soft down had been replaced by plastic rods covered in nylon strands and the hollow bones swapped for flimsy wires. 

A band-aid stuck beneath his chin. A red dot sat in the center of it, a dark splotch of blood. 

Wrinkles lined the creases of his eyes, branching out microscopically from laughter and worry. 

He looked different. 

He looked _mortal_. 

Kuroo understood in the same instant that Kenma did, tightening his grip and digging his claws into Kenma’s wrist. 

He’d abandoned them. 

Another ball sailed into a cup, and the crowd roared, shifting and swelling in their excitement. Bokuto jumped but something tethered him to his spot. 

An arm wrapped around another body. 

The boy - the human boy - next to him sighed through his nose, bored eyes resting on Bokuto’s face as he said something inaudible. Bokuto shifted, his smile growing as he responded, and his arm affectionately tightened its grip on the boy’s waist. 

Oh.

A noise blew past Kenma’s ear, a gentle puff of wind falling past Kuroo’s lips. 

The sound of something breaking. 

It was quiet. So quiet. Quiet enough that even Kenma, rooted against Kuroo’s side, felt the breath more than he heard it. 

The rest of the room was loud. _So_ loud. Loud enough that the shattered noise of his breath should have been buried beneath the onslaught of shouts. 

But Bokuto still managed to hear it. 

His eyes snapped up, and they were still so brilliantly gold even if they no longer shone with the animated flecks of molten silver. They locked onto their figures, the two boys standing in their tattered cloaks, pointed ears pressing against their hair, tails shivering between their legs. 

For a brief moment, he paused. His eyes widened, and something struck across his pupils. 

Horror. 

Bokuto’s mouth gaped, revealing a row of perfectly aligned, square teeth. He took a step - a small one, so as not to remove his hand from the human’s waist - and Kenma began to expect a loud, public confrontation in the middle of the crowd. 

His tails curled at the thought. 

But Kuroo had already moved, dragging Kenma behind him. His steps were measured, desperate, as he pressed through the crowd. A shout called out behind them, but they were already taking the steps two at a time. 

Somehow, they managed to break through the front door before Bokuto caught up with them. Blunt fingernails clawed at their coats, and suddenly Kuroo was yanked backwards. His hand, still wrapped around Kenma’s wrist, constricted as the claws dug into his skin. 

“Wait,” a voice pleaded. It took Kenma longer than it should have to recognize it. It was the first time he’d heard the boisterous tone burdened by heavy, exhausted huffs of breath. 

Kenma and Kuroo breathed without sound. 

“Please,” Bokuto continued, panting as he braced his hands on his knees. “Please, wait.”

Kenma glanced at Kuroo from the corner of his eye. His tails shifted in agitation, and his twitched in search of some kind of escape. He looked like he was ready to bolt. 

But his feet never took a step. 

Instead, they resigned themselves to shuffling in place, while the fingers of his free hand fiddled with the watch clamped around his wrist. 

_1:59_

Bokuto took a long, staggering breath. 

_2:00_

“It’s so good to see you guys.”

A beat of silence. 

“What. The. _Fuck_.”

Bokuto blinked in surprise, and the action is so similar to the long, owlish movements of his eyelids before - before he had traded his domineering, ruffling wings for the cheap replacements on his back - that Kenma’s chest cramps painfully. 

Slowly, the hesitant smile slipped from his face. “Kuroo-”

“What the _fuck_ ,” Kuroo repeated, pulling his hand away from Kenma’s wrist so he could stomp closer to Bokuto. “You weren’t fucking _trapped_ here all this time, were you? The gates didn’t fucking _close on you_ , did they? Y-you-” Kuroo’s words were strangled, choked by the anger and resentment seeping through his tone. He inhaled sharply and trapped his breath in a short hiccup.

“You wanted to stay here.”

For several long, agonizing moments, Bokuto didn’t say anything. Instead, he stood still as his eyes drifted. When his gaze matched Kenma’s, he forced himself to look away. 

He didn’t belong in the middle of this. 

The air held in Bokuto’s chest escaped in a long rush. 

“I wanted to stay here.”

It was funny how quickly a dam could break. Aside from a couple ragged breaths - a few cracks spiderwebbing the wall - Kuroo had remained silent, stoic, resilient. 

At the admission, he sobbed. 

Kenma bit down on his lip, wavering for a moment. He took a hesitant step forward, and Kuroo shoved him away without even a glance. 

“Why?” he hissed. His fingers clawed fervently at his forearms, and his watch broke from his wrist. It fell onto the ground, clattering against the concrete. A jagged line cut across the numbers. 

_2:02_

Bokuto squirmed, toeing the dirt with his boot as his eyes skirted to the side. 

Kuroo’s breathing had become something stronger, vicious. Each breath blew between his sharpened canines, pressed together in an angry snarl. 

Quickly, Kenma was by his side, grabbing the hem of his coat and yanking him backwards. Kuroo stumbled, but he righted himself quickly. Before he could advance again, Kenma held an arm in front of him. 

“Bokuto,” Kenma coaxed. His tone was distant and cold, but still warmer than Kuroo’s anger. Bokuto’s eyes met his, cautiously, and Kenma refused to let the guilt he found there sway him. “Why did you stay?”

His response was muddled, veiled by his quiet tone and an increase in volume from the house next to him. But his voice still fell on Kenma’s ears. 

“Akaashi.”

Behind Kenma, Kuroo’s body trembled. “Is that the name of the human?” he asked, voice meek. 

He was afraid of the answer. 

Bokuto nodded, and Kenma felt a pressure against his skin as Kuroo buried his face in his shoulder. 

“You stayed for the human,” Kenma clarified. 

It didn’t make sense. Humans were mortal. Humans were weak. Humans were fickle and vain and naïve. 

Humans were worthless. 

But Bokuto’s gaze turned back to the house, and his face filled with such warmth and affection that Kenma stepped away uneasily. 

“It’s probably not something you can understand,” Bokuto admitted, and for once, Kenma agreed. “But Akaashi’s everything to me.”

Kuroo’s teeth bit lightly against Kenma’s shoulder, but the sob still broke from his throat. 

“One day you’ll get it,” Bokuto implored. “You meet someone, and _you’re curious._ You’ll want to learn everything about them.” His tone, desperate for them to understand, becomes something softer. “Then, the curiosity becomes something else. Now that you know them - now that you know their past, their present, their future - they become something important.” Gently, achingly so, he brushed a knuckle against a wing, watching as a frail feather fell to the ground. “And you’d give up everything to be with them.”

For a human?

Unlikely. 

Recognizing Kenma’s disbelief, Bokuto shrugged. A teary smile shadowed his face. “You might not believe me now. But someone will fill you with such happiness one day, and you’ll understand why I would give up so much for what you might think is so little.”

“You’re happy?” Kuroo croaked. Tears slipped from his face and splattered against Kenma’s coat. 

Bokuto’s grin grew, and he nodded enthusiastically. “I’m _so_ happy.”

“Okay,” Kuroo murmured. Then louder, “Okay.”

Bokuto threw open his arms, and Kuroo pushed Kenma down so he could leap over and crash into Bokuto’s chest. His clawed hands left long scratches along the outside of the plastic wings, and his tears left damp splotches on his white t-shirt. 

Soon, these would be the only evidence that they had ever stepped in the human world. 

_2:14_

They had to go. 

“Kuroo,” Kenma called quietly. Kuroo only tightened his arms around Bokuto’s shoulders in a silent denial of time running out. 

“Kuroo,” he tried again. This time, the watch on the ground belied his urgency, releasing three short beeps. 

_2:15_

They would have to hurry to make it back on time. 

Reluctantly, Bokuto pushed Kuroo away from him. “You need to go,” he told him, chortling quietly when Kuroo groaned. 

But, much to Kenma’s relief, Kuroo stepped back. 

“Visit again next year,” Bokuto commanded. “I want to introduce you to Akaashi.”

Kuroo winced at the name, and Kenma wondered if Bokuto was really as oblivious to it as he seemed to be. “Okay,” he agreed quietly. 

Slowly, Kuroo turned his back to Bokuto. Kenma took a step, expecting him to follow, but instead Kuroo whirled back around. 

And pressed his lips to Bokuto’s. 

Bokuto tensed, but Kuroo was already backing away. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. Tears leaked into his mouth as he spoke. “I just had to do that at least once.”

Then, he swiped the wrist watch from the floor, grabbed a surprised Kenma by the wrist, and ran down the street. 

 

Kuroo stopped as soon as they turned a corner. He fell to his knees, curled his head into his chest, and _sobbed_.

Kenma crouched next to him, affectionately twining their tails together and petting Kuroo’s unruly hair. He hums quietly, hoping to coax his friend’s hiccups into quiet breaths. 

He ignored the clock on Kuroo’s wrist reminding him of how little time they have for this. 

_2:19_

As Kuroo’s breathing began to calm, Kenma’s eyes drifted away to explore their surroundings. The houses lining this street were quiet, windows dark and doors locked tight. 

When he thought they were alone, he relaxed. 

But then his eyes caught movement. A lone shadow centered in a window of the house across from them. The glass slid upward, and a head peeked out. Large, curious eyes blink at him, and a small hand brushed fiery bangs to the side for a better view.

Kenma hissed and tugged Kuroo upright. 

“Hey! Are you alright?” The human leaned precariously out from the window, and Kenma turned his head. If he didn’t acknowledge him, maybe he would go away.

Kuroo hiccuped, stumbling over his feet while Kenma fought to hold him up. The watch slipped from his fingers, but Kenma kept hauling them forward. They were already out of time. 

_2:28_

Something slammed behind him, and Kenma risked a glance back to the window. 

It was closed. 

Kenma hoisted Kuroo higher, wrapping an arm around his shoulder to yank him forward, and heaved a sigh of relief. 

Too soon. 

A clap of a door echoed through the night, followed by the thud of feet against pavement. “Wait, wait!” the boy shouted behind them. 

The hairs on Kenma’s tails spiked, and he pulled Kuroo a little faster. 

“You look like you need help!” 

Finally, Kuroo managed to cooperate. Side by side, the pair of them ran as fast as they could down the street, toward their own world and far away from the human trailing after them. 

 

Technically, there was never a Halloween before Hinata Shouyou. 

Kenma just didn’t know his name yet. 

 

_One day you’ll get it._

 

The second Halloween started similarly to the first. 

Kuroo stood next to the heavy metal door, engraved with spiraling markings that only glowed a bright white for three hours of the year. 

“Why are you going back?”

Kuroo shrugged. His lips twisted into a forlorn frown, and he stared at the curved handle of the door solemnly. “I can’t just…” He raised his arms, and they fell back to his sides as if they were burdened by weights. 

“It’s just going to hurt you,” Kenma warned. He stepped forward, hoping to position himself between his friend and the door, but Kuroo only shifted to the side. 

“I love him,” Kuroo croaked. His hands clasped in front of him, twisting and fretting with their fingers. “Even if this is all I get” - his hands drop, and one falls along the slope of the handle - “I have to take what I can get.”

 

This year, it wasn’t the neighbor’s house that was alit with neon lights. 

It was Bokuto’s human’s. 

Kenma noticed a difference immediately. Quieter music. Less sharp-smelling drinks and smoke. Significantly less people. 

It was still too much. 

Kuroo fit in smoothly, somehow. He tugged Kenma through the crowd just long enough to find Bokuto, then was promptly swept away by the flood of humans. Kenma was pushed to the far edge of the house, and he leant against a beige wall despondently with the tips of his tails brushing against the floorboards in annoyance. 

Sometimes, he caught glimpses of dark black ears in the crowd. Kuroo beside Bokuto beside Akaashi. Kuroo cast to the side while Bokuto fussed over his human, oblivious to the doleful eyes desperately aching to meet his. 

The corner of Kenma’s lips curled over his teeth. 

He wondered if Bokuto’s memory was affected now that he had given up his immortality. Otherwise, he was just cruel. 

Across the room, Bokuto planted a messy kiss to his human’s cheek. Kuroo averted his eyes. 

Kenma’s tails whipped against the wall behind them. 

“Whoa!” Something chirped, painfully close to Kenma’s sensitive ears. “How’d you get them to move like that?” 

Flinching, Kenma whirled around with wide, startled eyes. 

A human stood beside him - how’d he get so close without him noticing? - staring curiously at Kenma’s tails. 

_Staring at his tails._

Cautiously, Kenma stepped away, turning so that his tails were concealed behind his legs. The human pouted, but he was quickly distracted by something just above Kenma’s head. 

“And your ears, too!” he squeaked, leaning closer to Kenma’s face. “This must’ve taken a lot of effort.”

Kenma blinked, slow and horrified. 

He could _see_. 

When Kenma doesn’t respond, the human hurriedly took a hurried step back. “Sorry, sorry!” he apologized. His eyes never left Kenma’s ears. “People always tell me that I don’t know what personal space is.”

The human laughed hesitantly, raising a hand to scratch at his brow. The motion skewed his obnoxiously patterned top hat sideways, and wisps of bright hair fell into his eyes. 

It might’ve been a year, but the hair was recognizable enough for Kenma to stiffen. 

The human must have come to the same realization, because the grin across his face stretched and he snapped his fingers. “Hey! You’re that kid! Hold on, hold on.” He dipped a hand into the pocket of his purple coat, rummaging through it while his brow scrunched in concentration. 

Kenma took a step back. 

“Here it is!” he shouted, lifting his hand high. 

A simple, digital wrist watch dangled from his hand. 

_1:56_

“You dropped it last year,” he explained, holding it out for Kenma to take. “I brought it here hoping you might be a friend of Bokuto-san’s, and I lucked out!”

Kenma paused for a moment, then quickly snatched it from the human’s fingers. 

If the human thought Kenma’s skittishness was strange, he didn’t comment. He just continued smiling expectantly. 

Before Kenma could decipher what exactly he was expecting, something crashed into the human. Long arms wrapped around him and hoisted him into the air while Kenma watched in muted shock. 

“Shouyou!” Bokuto’s voice yelled. “I’m so glad you could make it! I don’t know what I would’ve done without my favorite kouhai!”

The human, Shouyou, only laughed. “Of course, I came!” With a yank, he twisted out of Bokuto’s grasp, hopping onto his toes to bring their heights closer together. Then, he wrinkled his nose in confusion. “I thought Akaashi was your favorite kouhai?”

Bokuto shushed him. “Akaashi’s my boyfriend,” he said proudly. Then, leaning in close to Hinata as if he was sharing a very loud secret, “I can’t let people think I’m biased because of that.”

Kenma quietly turned, hoping to duck away and vanish into the crowd while they were distracted. 

“Oh, hey, Kenma!” Bokuto reached forward and pulled Kenma back. 

Shouyou beamed. “So that’s your name!” he chirped. “It looked like you weren’t even about to offer it.”

Kenma hadn’t been about to offer it. 

Bokuto gasped. “You didn’t even introduce yourself, Kenma?”

Kenma just shrugged. 

“Well, my name’s Hinata Shouyou,” Hinata Shouyou chirped. “And I really like your costume.”

“Costume?” Bokuto repeated, glancing at Kenma. His eyes narrowed on his long, brown jacket. “You mean his coat?”

Hinata choked. “Of course not! His ears! I like the ears.” He holds his hands over his hair and swivels them, mimicking Kenma’s ears pressing flat against his head. 

Bokuto’s jaw dropped, and he looked between Kenma and Shouyou in horror. 

Kenma offered him only a scared, pleading look. 

“Hey, Shouyou!” Bokuto yelled, much too loud to be short of suspicious. “Can you do your senpai a favor and get us a couple drinks, please?”

“Of course!” Grabbing the empty cup from Bokuto’s hands, Shouyou whirled on Kenma. “What do you want?” 

Words refused to leave Kenma’s mouth. His heart must have crawled into his throat, clogging it and rendering him speechless. 

He couldn’t even look away from Hinata’s eyes. 

“He’ll just take a Coke,” Bokuto said quickly, shoving Hinata away from them. 

Hinata squawked, teetering, but smiled brightly over his shoulder as he ran off. 

Bokuto wasted no time. “He can _see_ your ears?”

“And my tails,” Kenma croaked. 

Turning, Bokuto stared above Kenma’s head, but his eyes didn’t focus on anything. His fingers reached to itch at his shoulder blade subconsciously. “ _I_ can’t even see them,” he said sadly.

Kenma wanted to remind him that he chose to be blind, that he chose to be wingless, that he chose to be mortal. 

He kept his mouth shut. 

A weight pressed against Kenma’s side as Kuroo fell against him. “Found you!” He grinned, and Kenma smelt the sharp scent of alcohol. 

Akaashi appeared behind him and gravitated to Bokuto’s side. “You ran off.” His tone was apathetic, like he was stating a fact, but Bokuto flinched as if he had raised his voice. 

“Sorry.” He laid an arm across his human’s shoulders. “Shouyou showed up, and I had to come over and greet him.”

Akaashi hummed. “Shouyou’s here? Why’d he show up so late? It’s past two.”

Bokuto shrugged at the same time Kuroo asked, “Wait, what’s the time?” Reflexively, he twisted his wrist to check his watch, forgetting that they had lost it last year. 

Except it hadn’t been. It was tucked away in the pocket of Kenma’s jacket. 

Ignoring Kuroo’s confused look, he checked the time.

_2:22_

Bokuto frowned. “Oh, shit, shouldn’t you guys be going?” 

“Huh?” Hinata wedged himself into the circle, two drinks in hand. The hat had vanished from his head, and curly hair bounced past his ears. He looked at Kenma, and Kenma’s tails writhed uncomfortably at the disappointment. “You’re leaving already?”

“They have to catch their train,” Bokuto lied. He took his cup back from Hinata and took a long sip. 

Hinata’s eyebrows furrowed. “I didn’t know trains left this early in the morning.”

“It does.” Kenma’s voice was awkward and stilted, desperate to be believed so he could vanish from the scrutiny of Hinata’s gaze. “It leaves at three.”

“If they don’t get there in time, then they’re stuck here until the next one.” Bokuto took another swig of his drink. “Which isn’t for a _long_ time.”

“Oh.” Hinata worried his bottom lip from beneath his teeth. “So you guys don’t live around here then?”

Kuroo tittered shrilly, and Kenma’s ears flinched at the noise. “Not even close.” he laughed raucously, like he had divulged some kind of secret Hinata wasn’t allowed in on. “This is the only day of the year that we even get a chance to visit, and only for a few hours.”

Kenma whacked him with his tails.

“Well, I guess you guys should be going, then,” Akaashi said. If Kenma had been less observant, he might’ve missed the frustrated glance the human shot in Kuroo’s direction. His tone was just as apathetic as usual, but his frown etched itself deeper into his face. 

“Yeah,” Kuroo agreed. “The last thing we would want is to be stranded here.”

Bokuto winced, and Kenma hoped that his words stung as much as they had intended to. 

Bouncing forward, Hinata shoved the soda can into Kenma’s palm. “Well, it was really nice meeting you!” He pawed around his pocket, pulling out a plastic rectangle. Tapping on it, he smiled, “Maybe I can get your number too?”

Bokuto whistled lowly. “Look at you!” He grinned and jostled Hinata’s shoulders. A faint blush spread across Hinata’s nose. “Unfortunately, though, my dear kouhai, my friends here don’t have cell phones.”

“Oh,” Hinata murmured. He looked back at Kenma hopefully. “E-mail?”

Kenma just shook his head. 

“This is so sad, Akaashi!” Falling heavily against his boyfriend, Bokuto pressed a hand over his eyes. “The potential for young love dashed so achingly! The two lo-”

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi interrupted. “A good host would drive their guests to the train station.” He glanced at Kuroo, now humming drunkenly against Kenma’s shoulder. “Especially when one of them is so inebriated.”

“Oh!” Bokuto crowed, jumping away from Akaashi to pull eagerly on Kenma. “That’s right! I’ll drive you guys over there! And you won’t be late.”

Kenma bowed his head, pointedly avoiding Hinata’s downhearted face. “Thank you.”

“Of course!” Bokuto kissed Akaashi once on the cheek - Kuroo sniffled pathetically against Kenma’s hair - and ruffled Hinata’s hair before he pushed his way through the crowd, elbowing the other humans to the side and creating an accessible for them to follow. 

Desperately, Kenma followed.

He refused to acknowledge Hinata’s quiet, “Bye, Kenma,” as he walked past. 

 

The ‘train station’ was nothing more than the worn, wooden door of an abandoned warehouse at the edge of town. 

The building was dilapidated, lined with crumbling walls and supported by flimsy beams. The windows were boarded and nailed shut, and blocky profanity and vulgar artwork had been spray painted across each wall.

Bokuto laughed at the sight of it. 

At Kenma’s sharp glance, Bokuto’s grin only grew. “Some kids I know wanted to make this place into a haunted house for some extra profit. The city said no, ‘cause it’s kind of falling apart, but it would’ve been so cool.” He placed his hand against one dusty wall, and chunks of foundation fell when he pulled away. “They were onto something, though, huh?”

“Yeah,” Kenma agreed quietly. 

Bokuto traced the edges of the door, brushing his fingertips against the aged wood and thumbing along the rusted hinges. Tentatively, he pushed it open. 

A dark, empty warehouse lay on the other side. 

He laughed breathily. 

Kuroo shifted against Kenma’s side. “You can’t come back.”

“I kind of figured.” Bokuto turned away from the door and grinned. “I knew what I was signing up for when I gave up my wings.”

“Did you?”

For a moment, Bokuto said nothing. He and Kuroo stood, only a few feet apart, and stared at each other with heavy eyes. 

Kenma’s fingers tugged on the wrist watch uncomfortably. 

_2:57_

Distracted by the motion, Bokuto’s eyes turned to the watch. “You better get going,” he urged, “or you’ll miss your train.”

Without responding, Kuroo strode forward, jostling Bokuto’s shoulder roughly as he stormed past. He shoved through the door, and vanished into the darkness waiting for him. 

“You know,” Kenma whispered, staring intently at the crisp leaves below his feet, “this isn’t just going to go away.”

Bokuto was silent, and Kenma wondered if he would ignore him. Finally, he croaked, “I don’t know what to _do._ ”

Kenma’s eyes snapped up. “ _Talk to him,_ ” he begged, his tails twining around each other as he stepped toward Bokuto. “You can’t just ignore this.”

“I want to.” Bokuto’s shoulders shook, and Kenma imagined the faint outlines of large wings shuddering desperately. “But I don’t know _how._ ” 

Kenma sighed, scrubbing at dry eyes. “Figure it out.”

Bokuto didn’t respond, and Kenma slowly began to walk to the door. He wanted to push through it and leave all of this behind for another year, deal with it the next Witching Hour. 

But the curiosity gnawing on him was too incessant to ignore. 

He coughed, quietly, and waited for Bokuto to look warily in his direction before he asked. “What did Hinata mean” - he shuffled his feet awkwardly - “when he asked for my number.”

The grin that spread across Bokuto’s face was far from bright, but it was there. “Hinata’s just a friendly kid.” 

Kenma nodded, deciding not to push past the vague, disappointing answer. 

But Bokuto wasn’t done. “He’s a good kid.” The tiny smile grew imperceptibly. “Maybe next year you should try getting to know him a little better.”

The hairs along Kenma’s tails rose as he pushed through the door and fell into his own world once again. 

 

_You meet someone._

 

The third Halloween, Kuroo refused to step into the human world. 

“I can’t do it,” he whimpered, twisting himself into a little ball as he stared at the heavy door in front of him. The Witching Hour had begun nearly twenty minutes ago, the runes engraved into the door flashing brilliantly, but Kuroo remained pressed against the far wall of their house. 

“Can’t do what?” Kenma asked. 

He already knew the answer. 

Choking, Kuroo sobbed, “He looks at him like he’s his entire _world_. He’s his focal point, and he revolves around him like he’s a star.” Kuroo buried his face into his knees, and his tails twisted to hide what was still visible of his face. “I wanted him to look at _me_ like that.” 

“Kuroo,” Kenma tried gently. “You can’t just pretend that-”

Kuroo’s eyes appeared above his tails, razor sharp and _angry._ “I’m not _pretending_ anything!” 

Kenma flinched. 

Enraged amber ducked back into hiding. “Please,” he begged, so quietly that Kenma’s ears strained to hear. “Just let me rot here, just this year.”

And Kenma couldn’t argue.

Instead, he quietly pushed open the door and left Kuroo behind. 

 

In all honestly, Kenma didn’t know what compelled him to venture into the human world alone. 

Maybe it was the prospect of seeing a friend he could visit only rarely. Or maybe the fear of staying at home, with an upset and tortured Kuroo, and having no idea how to comfort him. 

Maybe it was Hinata Shouyou. 

Either way, he found himself slipping down Bokuto’s street, trying to find where he might’ve snuck off to this time. 

But tonight, none of the houses were alive. 

The street was lined only with dead, quiet houses, asleep for the night. 

At a loss, Kenma pulled himself into a darkened square of the street. He stared blankly at Bokuto’s house, scanning for some kind of signal that the inhabitants were inside, just quiet. 

He got nothing. 

Sighing loudly through his nose, Kenma spun around, intending to stalk all the way back into his own home and deal with whatever mood Kuroo threw at him. 

Instead, he smacked face first into a head of unruly hair. 

A voice chirruped, sounding happily surprised, “Oh, Kenma!”

Hinata Shouyou. 

This year, he was missing his bright purple jacket and patterned top hat, replacing the loud outfit with ripped jeans and a muddy red t-shirt. His face was smeared with a hard, sticky substance that resembled blood, but smelled more like glue than anything else. 

Kenma straightened and tried to ignore the increase of his heartbeat. “Hello.”

Hinata grinned, bright white teeth glowing neon in the darkness. “Are you going to Bokuto-san’s too?” His eyes shimmered excitedly. 

Kenma sagged in relief and nodded. 

Hinata seemed to deflate, the shine dulling in his eyes. “Well, c’mon, then.” The tips of his fingers brushed against Kenma’s as he stepped past, and Kenma’s hands curled toward himself reflexively, pulling away from Hinata’s touch. 

The edges of Hinata’s smile slipped.

The first thing Kenma noticed was that Hinata bounced when he walked. Like his body held too much energy, and so every motion was augmented exponentially in an effort to release it. He hopped up the steps to Bokuto’s porch two at a time, and wiggled in place after he pressed the doorbell. 

Kenma only followed, like a quiet shadow trailing behind the light that cast it. 

“They can’t throw a party this year,” Hinata explained as they waited for someone to open the door. “Most of their close friends are off in college, and not all of them came home just for Halloween. So it’s really just a small get-together more than anything else.” He smiled timidly at Kenma, almost hopefully.  
Kenma nodded and refused to meet his eyes.

Hinata’s smile dropped. He didn’t offer anything else. 

It wasn’t long before the silence engulfed them. 

It crept over Kenma, suffocating him like a heavy blanket, and he pulled the collar of his coat away from his neck . From the corner of his eye, Hinata rocked on his heels uncomfortably, then forcefully pushed the doorbell again. 

“Maybe they just didn’t hear it,” he murmured. 

Kenma nodded, and Hinata bit his lip as he glanced to the floor. 

Something pounded from inside the house, and hurried footsteps crash toward the door. “Just a minute!”

Hinata coughed. 

Finally, the door swung open, and Bokuto yanked them inside by their coats. “Hurry, hurry,” he said, gesturing down the hallway. “We’re already starting the movie.”

Hinata wasted no time, hurrying down the hallway and turning a corner before Kenma had even taken a step.

Bokuto froze. Then, he looked back at Kenma, and frowned. 

“Where’s Tetsurou?”

Kenma rubbed his wrists. “He decided not to come.”

“Oh.” 

Silence quickly became Kenma’s least favorite thing. 

In a desperate attempt to break it, he opened his mouth, ready to apologize for something he’s not even a part of, if only so that the crippling silence shattered around them. 

But Bokuto recovered much faster than he did. “So why did you come here, then?”

And, for as much as Kenma had hated the silence, he couldn’t bring himself to answer. 

 

Kenma had hoped that this Halloween would be better. No party. Less people. Maybe his anxiety could settle. 

But he had been wrong. 

The smaller group - a meager ten people from Akaashi’s high school volleyball team - was so much worse than any crowd.

They were grouped around the TV, watching an awful horror movie and passing around an orange bowl of popcorn. Blood splattered across the screen frequently as several characters met gruesome deaths, and Kenma quickly grew bored of the exaggerated gore. 

Which made him all the more aware of the people around him. 

Including Hinata Shouyou, pressed against the armrest of their shared love seat, as far away from Kenma as he could get without falling to the floor. 

When Kenma had walked into the room, there had only been two seats left. One next to Akaashi on the long couch in front of the television, or the one right beside Hinata, who had been pointedly avoiding Kenma’s eyes. 

Naturally, Bokuto claimed the seat next to Akaashi. 

Kenma had awkwardly tiptoed toward the love seat, and Hinata scooted over politely, leaving just enough room for Kenma to sit down with only an inch between them. The cordial smile Hinata offered him was a little too tight around the corners, and Kenma ducked his head in response. 

Now, while a pretty girl was brutally bludgeoned to death with a shovel in front of him, Kenma was all too aware of the feather light touches of Hinata’s knee bumping against his. 

At the beginning of the movie, when there had been nothing but an ordinary cabin deep in the woods, Hinata had tried to create quiet conversation with him, asking if Kenma liked horror movies or, when Kenma shook his head, what kind of movies he did like, then.

But then Hinata asked where he lived, and Kenma didn’t have a response to offer. 

If it was any consolation - and it wasn’t much - Hinata’s disappointed expression had been overtaken by horrified pallor, his eyes wide and stricken as he watched the movie. His pale face was twisted into a tight frown, and his eyes squinted shut as the shovel wedged itself into the junction of the no-longer-pretty girl’s neck. 

He stood up. “Excuse me for a moment,” he apologized, and escaped from the room. 

A couple of the kids laying in front of the couch laughed to themselves as Hinata went, jostling each other with their elbows as they tittered. 

Kenma glanced at them, then turned back to the door Hinata had disappeared through. 

“He’s fine,” a quiet voice explained, and Kenma jumped. Akaashi had leaned around Bokuto and watched Kenma with perceptive eyes. “He just has a weak stomach.”

Kenma nodded, but his gaze involuntarily slipped back to the door. 

Bokuto suddenly erupted with a powerful shout, just in time for the axe-murderer to be hit with the pick-up truck. Akaashi rolled his eyes, and with a fluidity that surprised Kenma, 

deliberately pushed Bokuto onto the floor. 

He shifted, pushing himself closer to Kenma, and rested his legs over Bokuto’s shoulders. 

“I promise, he’s fine.” Certain words from an apathetic face. Yet his eyes were compelling, like they contained insight and knowledge that could be trusted.

“I think I offended him,” Kenma blurted. His ears tucked themselves against his hair shamefully.

Luckily, the admission had come at the same time that the murderer met a gory end, and Bokuto’s cheers of elation hid the words from most ears. 

Just not Akaashi’s. 

“Why would you think that?” He asked, petting Bokuto’s hair like an excited puppy’s. Bokuto calmed under his touch, and his vigorous laughter calmed to delighted vibrations.

Nervous fingers played with the clasp of Kenma’s watch. 

_1:36_

“He just seems kind of-”

Disappointed?

Upset?

Perturbed?

Kenma just let himself trail off.

Akaashi hummed thoughtfully, as if he completely understood despite Kenma’s own lack of understanding. “I seriously doubt he’s offended,” he corrected. “Maybe just a little unsure.”

“Unsure of _what_?”

“Well, from what I can tell, he’s been trying to make conversation with you. And you haven’t exactly seemed responsive.”

Kenma blinked. 

Oh. 

“Although I doubt that was the reason he had left. Even if he wasn’t entirely sure how to approach you, he probably would’ve been persistent in conversation whether you were receptive to it or not. The movie-” he cut himself up when Kenma stood. 

Then, his lips quirked. “Try the upstairs balcony.”

And Kenma was gone.

 

Akaashi had been right; Hinata hid himself away, bundled tightly in a fuzzy blanket, on the balcony. Several strands of hair, mussed by the light breeze, were stuck in the dried red cornstarch of the cuts on his face, and his pallor had regained some color in the faint blush along his cheeks. In his hands was a piece of plastic with two screens flashing brightly in the darkness, distracting his gaze from Kenma’s appearance. 

Kenma hesitated just outside the door. A couple of times, he took in a quiet breath only to let it out between his teeth, unsure. He floundered, silently, for something to say, to start a conversation, but all of the words jammed in his throat, blocking each other in their desperation to be freed.

The door slammed shut behind him. 

Hinata flailed and, trapped in his blanket, fell to the ground with a muffled thump. The thing he had been holding fell with him and skidded across the balcony, and Hinata squeaked as he fumbled to grab it.

Kenma flinched. 

Catching the movement, Hinata’s eyes flicked up and blew wide in surprise. “Oh, Kenma.”

Kenma’s tails snapped apprehensively as he nodded, and he caught one between his hands, plucking at the soft strands of fur with his claws. Hinata watched the motion curiously. 

“You know,” he said slowly, a little hopefully, “you never told me how you made them so life-like.”

Of all the things he had to ask, it just had to be that.

When Kenma didn’t respond, Hinata sighed through his nose. He stood and pulled the blanket tighter around himself as he turned away. 

“It’s a secret.”

Hinata whipped around, and Kenma quickly averted his eyes to stare at the stars above them. He hoped Hinata wouldn’t notice the flush rising over his face. 

“I’m good at keeping secrets,” Hinata responded. When Kenma found the courage to peek at him, he found him grinning widely. Something sparked in his eyes, and he fell back into his chair with the blanket pooling around his shoulders. He left just enough space for Kenma to join him. 

So Kenma did. 

The chair was roughly the same size as the love seat from the living room. But this time, Hinata wasn’t desperately creating space between them, so his thighs were pressed comfortably against Kenma. 

Kenma shivered, and when Hinata offered to share the blanket, he couldn’t find it in himself to blame anything other than the cold. 

“Even if you can keep a secret,” Kenma rasped, wrinkling his nose as a gust of wind tickled his dark hair over his face; Hinata sneezed beside him as a few strands blew against his own nose. “I still can’t tell you.”

Hinata pouted, and Kenma suddenly realized how dangerously close they sat. “Fine,” he consented. Twisting, he reached for Kenma’s tails sprawled across his lap and gently ran his fingers against one. 

The tail fluffed, startled, and Hinata giggled happily. 

Kenma could only watch with a stricken sort of horror as Hinata lifted both of his tails, cradling them carefully as he moved them from Kenma’s lap. With the space cleared, Hinata spread his legs over Kenma’s, then softly deposited the tails over his own thighs. 

A gnat flew into Kenma’s agape mouth, and he sputtered. 

“They’re really soft,” Hinata commented as he traced the fine hairs of the tails in his lap, marveling at how Kenma had made the fur the same shade of brown as his hair. He glance upward, imploringly, locking his eyes with Kenma. 

Kenma blushed and ducked his head. 

The petting didn’t stop. 

Desperate for something to distract himself from Hinata’s fingers, Kenma pointed at the piece of plastic laying abandoned on the floor below them. “What’s that?”

Hinata paused long enough for Kenma to flick his tail impatiently, quietly asking for him to continue. “My DS?”

Kenma shrugged. “If that’s what it’s called.”

With one hand still running through Kenma’s fur, Hinata reached below them and tucked the DS into Kenma’s hands. “Here.” He flicked a switch, and the screens lit up. “Tap on the bottom screen.” 

Kenma clicked the DS with one of his claws, and the bright image changed. A series of boxes lined the screen, and Hinata pointed at one with a small, pixelated man dressed in red inside of it. “Did you want to play?”

Kenma nodded. He let Hinata start the game for him, walking him through the beginning until he was familiar enough with the controls. Sometimes, he would fit his hands over Kenma’s, showing him which buttons to press and which way to move, before his fingers would retreat and busy themselves with his tails again. 

Slowly, the tension dripped from Kenma’s shoulders and his tails began to swish contentedly over Hinata’s lap, threading between his fingers and wrapping around his wrists. Kenma leaned into Hinata, and Hinata leaned into him. Soon enough their heads were pressed together, sharing the same air beneath the space of their blanket. 

And, as Kenma collected mushrooms and Hinata pet his tails, they _talked_. Kenma’s curiosity laced his veins, and words formed on his tongue, asking Hinata about his life, about his passions, about himself. 

Somehow, it all revolved around volleyball.

“I started playing when I was in middle school,” he said, watching the stars distantly. “We didn’t have a team there, but my nanny had a daughter that played, and sometimes I went to games to watch. Even though I was younger than them, they ended up teaching me how to play, and I joined in on their practices. It wasn’t until high school that I actually got the chance to do anything official about it. And I made all these new friends, and I didn’t feel so alone anymore. My parents aren’t home a lot, and when they are they’re usually working, and I’m just as alone in our house either way. But volleyball-” he grinned, and his eyes brightened significantly. Kenma couldn’t tear his gaze away. 

The little red character died on his screen, and Kenma snapped the DS closed. 

“Volleyball is _everything to me_. Kageyama, Bokuto-san, Akaashi-san, all of them. We’re like a family! We go out for pork buns and have movie nights, which Bokuto usually turns into food fights since he likes to throw popcorn at Akaashi. Kageyama sleeps over a lot, and we drag our mattresses into the backyard because we _can_. And Bokuto brings his dog over sometimes, even though my mom would probably have an aneurysm if she found out, but she won’t anyway, and I honestly couldn’t care less if his fur gets all over her nice couch.” 

He turned to Kenma, bringing their faces close enough that Kenma could see every shade of brown in his eyes. “We win so many games, too! ‘Cause we’re unstoppable! I mean, I sucked a lot when I first started, but I’m really good now!”

Kenma’s lips twitched while Hinata took a deserved breath. “You’re probably a fantastic player.”

And Hinata beamed. “What about you, Kenma?What are your friends like?”

And Kenma told him. 

He told him about how there weren’t many kind people where he lived, and he told him that he’d been lucky enough to find Bokuto and Kuroo in a place where the average person would rather be solitary than social. 

Hinata looked vaguely confused, and maybe a little horrified, but Kenma just told him more. 

He told him about his best friend, currently moping alone in their house because Kenma was too much of a coward to stay behind and look after him, comfort him, because he didn’t know how. He told him how worried he was, because his best friend’s heart was broken, and there looked to be no recovery in the near future. 

Hinata’s hands left Kenma’s tails, reaching for the DS and slowly lowering it. Gently prying Kenma’s hands from the game, he fit his fingers into the spaces between Kenma’s and squeezed. “You’re not a coward for not knowing how to deal with this. And there’s not much you could be doing anyway. A broken heart is terrible, but you can’t fix it for him.”

Kenma nodded, fangs digging into his lower lip as he fell into Hinata’s eyes. 

Hinata smiled, pulling only one hand away. “And for what it’s worth,” he added, a blush flaring across his face, “I’m glad you came tonight.”

And Kenma could feel the heat climbing up his neck.

He was glad he had come too.

No party. No alcohol. No heartbroken best friend. 

Just him and Hinata, surrounded by their blanket and the sounds of 8-bit music. 

It was perfect.

It was perfect, but it was ruined once Bokuto crashed through the balcony door, startling Kenma badly enough that he flinched and cracked his forehead against Hinata’s. 

“Kenma,” Bokuto panted, leaning heavily against the door frame. His eyes were closed, but Kenma and Hinata still hurried to untangle themselves from each other. 

“What,” Kenma hissed, once he and Hinata were a safe distance apart. 

“The… time…” Bokuto wheezed.

Oh, no. 

Kenma flipped his wrist. 

2:47

“ _Fuck_.”

“We can… still make it… if… we hurry.”

“Bokuto-san.” Hinata rapped against Bokuto’s back. “You should really be more in shape than this.”

Bokuto whacked his hands away half-heartedly. 

“Shouyou,” Kenma whispered. He didn’t know why Shouyou slipped out, rather than Hinata, but it fit around his tongue so smoothly that he didn’t correct himself. “My train.”

Shouyou nodded sadly, but a smile still quirked his lips. “I know. I wouldn’t suppose you’ve gotten a cell phone in the last year?”

Kenma shook his head, and Shouyou laughed. “That’s alright.” He picked up the DS from where it had fallen between them and placed it into Kenma’s coat pocket. “I’ll give you that instead of my number, alright?”

Kenma blinked dumbly. 

“The _train_ ,” Bokuto emphasized, grabbing Kenma’s coat sleeve and dragging him away. 

“Maybe next year,” Hinata called as Kenma was yanked back inside, “you can finally tell me about your costume!”

 

When Kenma crashed through the door to his home, with barely a minute to spare, only silence greeted him. Kuroo had at some point curled himself into a ball on the couch during the night, sleeping soundly. Dried tears still streaked his face. 

Quietly, Kenma stepped past him, careful not to wake him. He would find a way to tackle the issues surrounding them in the morning. 

But for now, he wanted nothing more than to sleep. 

He tucked himself into his bedroom, shedding his coat and dropping it next to him. The DS was taken from his pocket and tucked safely into the side of his pillow.

Kenma’s tails fell into his lap as he sat, and he brushed his fingertips against them reverently.

Absentmindedly, he wondered if this is what Bokuto had meant. 

 

_You’ll want to learn everything about them._

 

The fourth Halloween, Kuroo agreed to cross into the mortal world with Kenma.

Kenma didn’t know what encouraged Kuroo to come back - his heart still ached and mourned for something that could never be a reality - but, when he hiked his jacket over his shoulders and slipped through the door, Kuroo trailed behind. 

This year, a beat-up pick-up truck sat in front of the old warehouse, headlights shining and engine running. Bokuto poked his head out the window as Kuroo and Kenma passed through their door and beckoned them forward. 

“We’re not going to Akaashi’s this year,” he explained, leaning to push the passenger side door open. Kuroo walked straight past it and climbed into the backseat. “He moved out this year after graduating, so it’s not really _his_ house to throw a party in anymore.”

Kenma took the front instead, slipping in next to Bokuto and curling his tails away from the door as it fell closed behind him. His fingers slipped into his jacket pocket, smoothing over the plastic of the DS tucked away safely. 

Pulling his eyes from the rearview mirror, Bokuto winked at him. “Party’s at Shouyou’s place instead.” 

The answering smile was hidden away in the collar of Kenma’s coat. 

“Shouyou?” Kuroo asked. “Who’s that?”

“Just Kenma’s _friend_ ,” Bokuto laughed, and Kenma buried his face deeper into his coat. Behind him, Kuroo’s eyes snapped to stare at the back of his head, and he shrunk further. 

He knew what he would find in them if he looked back. 

“Oh,” Kuroo said, and that was the end of it. 

 

Hinata’s house was farther away than Bokuto’s, tucked down a winding driveway and framed by tall, spindly trees. It was large too, much too spacious for one boy to grow up in while his parents abandon 

_12:29_

Kenma would only have two hours.

As soon as the truck pulled to a stop, jamming itself between several other cars parked in the long driveway, Kenma climbed out and quickly stalked to the front door, blushing when Bokuto’s teasing laughter trailed behind him. The house was bright and loud, and several people were stumbling around the lawn. The inside was a mess of bodies, blurred together into a single entity. 

Bokuto whistled lowly under his breath as Kenma crept inside, sticking to the perimeter of the walls to avoid the rowdy chatter and laughter. “The whole school must’ve caught wind of this,” Bokuto murmured. At Kenma’s curious glance, he grinned sharply. “You’re not the only one who thinks he’s lovable.” He winked, and Kenma turned to hide the blush crawling up his face. “He’s a popular guy. I’m sure everyone would’ve liked to come as soon as they heard.”

“Kenma,” Kuroo called, gently touching his shoulder. “We can go if you’re uncomfortable.”

Kenma blinked at him, confused, and shook his head. “It’s not a big deal.”

Kuroo cocked an eyebrow. “But you hate crowds.”

Shrugging, Kenma delved further through the house, and Bokuto laughed. “He has to look for _Shouyou_ ,” he crooned, puckering his lips and smacking. 

He stopped when Kuroo shot him a glare. “Shouldn’t you be looking for someone yourself?”

It was their first interaction of the night, and Bokuto recoiled sufficiently, glancing at Kenma pleadingly. 

“Kuroo,” Kenma sighed. “Don’t snap.”

Immediately, Kuroo whirled on him, seething. “ _What?_ ” 

But Kenma was tired of this, and tired of his attitude and tired of his emotional constipation. He shoved Kuroo’s shoulder and said, “Just fucking talk to each other. ‘Cause your angry, and that’s fine, but you’ve been angry for a _long time_ , and that’s _not_ fine. So just have _an actual conversation_ and figure this shi-”

Something slammed into him, shouting “Kenma!” as they staggered into the wall. Kenma turned his head, and his nose brushes against soft, unruly hair. “You came!”

“Hi, Shouyou,” he whispered, returning Shouyou’s hug. 

Over his shoulder, he can see Kuroo staring at them, eyes lit with something achingly close to betrayal. “So this is Shouyou.”

Kenma nodded. He wondered if he should maybe say something, something about how he wasn’t Bokuto and he wouldn’t leave just like that. 

But he didn’t want to make promises he might not be able to keep. 

Shouyou was already grabbing Kenma by the hand, twisting their fingers together as he tugged, and Kenma barely has a chance to trade a pointed look between himself and Kuroo, begging him to talk to Bokuto and sort everything out. 

Kuroo huffed, but when Bokuto nudged his shoulder and jerked his head toward the door, Kuroo followed him outside. 

Satisfied, Kenma turned forward. 

And tripped over his feet.

“Kenma?” Shouyou asked, crouching to help him stand back up. “Are you alright?”

No, Kenma wanted to say. His chest felt like someone had run an arrow through it, and he coughed harshly, hoping to clear the ache. 

The moment he looked back at Shouyou, though, it was back full force. 

“Your hair…” he murmured, if only because that was the first thing that would come to mind. 

Shouyou ruffled the top of his hair self consciously, where it was long and curly and unruly. The sides of it were buzzed, cut close to his scalp. 

That wasn’t the only thing that had changed. 

His ears were pierced now, adorned with small black studs against pale skin. He was taller too, and he had filled out with lean muscles mottled with fading bruises. Lines creased the corners of his smile, crinkling noticeably when he spoke. 

He had grown. 

And Kenma hadn’t.

His dark hair hung at the same length it always had, and he wasn’t any taller than he wasa year ago. No creases surrounded his eyes, and his skin never colored. The claws on his hands never even grew out. 

He was the same as he always had been. 

Unaware of the muted horror burning in Kenma’s stomach, Hinata pulled his hand from his hair. “Do you like it?” he asked hopefully. 

Kenma, unable to say no, nodded. Shouyou’s grin grew - the creases growing along with it - and pulled him forward again. “C’mon!” he cheered as Kenma stumbled behind him. “Everyone’s downstairs, mostly, so we can find somewhere empty upstairs!”

Near the stairs, a tall kid stopped them, yanking Shouyou backward as he tried to sneak past. Shouyou introduced him as Kageyama, his best friend, and Kenma bowed his head slightly in introduction. 

Kageyama grunted. 

Giggling, Shouyou jabbed an elbow into his friend’s stomach. “That’s just how he says hello,” he whispered loudly to Kenma, and Kageyama yanked on his hair. 

“You can’t just _leave_ ,” he hissed as Shouyou tried to pull away unsuccessfully. “You’re technically the host of this party.”

“I didn’t even _invite_ them, Yamayama-kun. They’ll hardly miss me.”

Kageyama looked ready to argue, but Shouyou clasped his hands together pleadingly. “Can’t you cover for me? I just want to spend some time with Kenma before he has to leave. I won’t even see him until next year probably.”

Kenma shivered and pressed himself into Shouyou’s side. 

Narrowing his eyes between the two of them, Kageyama scowled. “Fine,” he sighed dreadfully. 

Shouyou cheered and dove into Kageyama’s chest for a fast hug. “Thanks, Tobio!” he shouted, then grabbed Kenma’s hand to finish leading him up the stairs.

They ducked into a small bedroom, one that Kenma immediately realized to be Shouyou’s. Clothes littered the floor, clumped together in small piles along the walls, and posters of volleyball players lined the room floor to ceiling. A volleyball rested on the bed, and a sports magazine peeked from underneath Shouyou’s pillow. The desk shoved against one wall was covered with balled up papers, snapped pencils, and tattered text books. 

“Sorry,” Shouyou apologized meekly. He bent and shoved several piles of clothes beneath his bed. “It’s kind cluttered.”

Kenma nodded in silent agreement, but smiled.

It was messy. 

It was lived-in. 

And it looked a home. 

Faintly, Kenma imagined his own room, empty and barren save for a bed covered in sterile, white sheets and a bald wooden dresser. 

“You don’t have to clean it,” Kenma told him as Shouyou continued to straighten the paper balls on his desk. “I don’t mind.”

Shouyou looked up from his organized trash. “Really?”

“It’s kind of a waste of time.”

Immediately, Shouyou dropped the candy wrapper he was holding and dove for his bed. In the movement, he managed to wrap his arms around Kenma’s waist and pulled him down next to him so that they lay on the bed together, nose to nose. 

“Hi.” Shouyou grinned. 

“Hi.” He twisted and dug the DS from his pocket. “I have something for you.”

Shouyou laughed and took it from Kenma’s hands. “I realized once you left that you didn’t even have a charger for this thing. It probably didn’t last you that long,” he giggled. He flicked the power switch, then jumped when the DS flared to life. 

“It worked fine,” Kenma pointed out. 

“Huh.” He wrinkled his nose in confusion, then decided that it wasn’t worth the time and tossed it to the foot of the bed. “Well, you still didn’t have very many games to play.”

Kenma shrugged. “It was still entertaining.”

“Good! Now, let’s get to the million dollar question.”

Gentle fingers ran along the edge of Kenma’s ears, and the purr managed to slip past his lips. Shouyou laughed. “They’re so _life-like_.”

“I know.”

Shouyou tugged on one ear tenderly. “This is the part where you tell me the secret,” he whined. 

Smiling slightly, Kenma scooted closer. Their noses bumped together, but he didn’t pull away. “Maybe next year.”

He didn’t expect for Shouyou’s face to fall the way it did. His grin fell completely for a second, and when it returned, the edges of it were too tight to be real. “Yeah,” he agreed dejectedly. “Maybe.”

Kenma tensed, and sat up. Shouyou’s fingers fell from his ears, and their noses were too far apart to touch, but he tried not to notice the distance. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.”

“No,” Kenma said, staring at him unblinkingly. “It’s not.”

“I-” Shouyou gulped, and rolled over so his eyes bored into the ceiling rather than Kenma. “I won’t be here next year.”

The bed had fallen out from beneath Kenma, and there was no floor to catch him as he fell. 

“What?”

“I was accepted to a university in Tokyo. They have a fantastic volleyball team, and really good academics, and Kageyama’s gonna be there too. I couldn’t pass it up.” He scrubbed at his eyes. Kenma wanted to wipe away Shouyou’s tears instead, but he couldn’t move. “They have a big tournament in the fall, and I’ll have so much practice next year that I won’t even have the chance to come back.”

“Oh,” Kenma murmured. 

Rubbing his eyes dry, Shouyou grinned shakily. “But that’s _next_ year. Does your train leave at three again? We still have a little bit.”

Kenma glanced at his watch, ignoring the way his wrist shook. 

_2:03_

“And,” Shouyou continued, scratching the shaved side of his head nervously, “if you want, you could always come visit me at college? It might be closer to where you live.”

He sounded so, _so_ hopeful, and it broke Kenma’s heart to shake his head. “It’s not.”

Shouyou wilted. “Where do you even live? Maybe I can visit you instead?”

Looking down to his hands fisted in his lap, Kenma laughed bitterly and wished that his door could lead to more than just this warehouse. Then he could follow Hinata anywhere. “So _far_.”

“Like out of the country?”

Kenma nodded. “Yeah, out of the country.”

Shouyou watched him expectantly, waiting for him to elaborate. When Kenma didn’t, he frowned. 

Kenma frowned too. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Frowning.”

The frown deepened. “It’s nothing.”

“You’re upset,” Kenma deadpanned. He was more nervous than he allowed himself to sound though, his tails twisting around his hands and tightening.

“I shouldn’t be.”

Kenma stared at him.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered. 

“What’s your full name?”

Kenma startled. “Kozume Kenma.”

“Your friend’s name?”

“Kuro.”

“How do you know Bokuto?”

Kenma shuffled uneasily. “He and Kuro were good friends before he moved here.”

“Where did he live before he moved here?”

Kenma didn’t answer, and Shouyou glanced away. “Alright,” he said despondently. 

“Shouyou…”

“You don’t tell me things,” he sighed as he sat up. “I wish you would _tell me things_.” Kenma flinched. 

“I wish I _could_.”

“I want to be your friend,” he whispered. “I want to be- I want to be _something_ , but I don’t know anything about you, and that’s really frustrating, ‘cause I really, _really_ like you-”

“Well, how do you like me then?” Kenma blurted. “How do you like someone that you don’t even know?”

Shouyou stared at him, then shrugged. “I don’t know.” His expression had closed off into neutrality, his lips pressed together in a straight line and eyes hollow. 

He looked completely different from how he did just a year ago. It was unsettling

“I guess you have your own life over there, huh? And maybe this doesn’t mean all that much to you. This is just your vacation, and I’m just a nice kid. And you barely even know me, and barely even know you, and I really shouldn’t expect much, but I-”

The worst feeling in the world was when you have too much to say, and the words jammed in your throat in their desperation to be said. He choked, and his tongue refused to shape their sounds. 

“I _do_ tell you things,” Kenma managed, eventually, pathetically. 

“You won’t even tell me about your _costume_.” He inhaled deeply, and his smile returned albeit hesitantly. He laughed, “I can’t even be mad, because you have absolutely no obligation to tell me things, we’ve only really met for what? Nine hours? We’re hardly even acquaintances, let alone friends, let alone-”

He didn’t look like he knew how to finish his own sentence. 

And Kenma didn’t know what to _do_.

So he did the first thing that came to mind. 

He grabbed Hinata by the collar of his shirt, and crushed him into a hug. “I like you too.” But that wasn’t enough, that was never enough. “Your smile is so bright, and you’re so friendly, and I literally hated it here, I didn’t want to come, but then you grinned at me and talked to me, and you were so excited that I couldn’t help being excited too. And I don’t want to let that go, ‘cause I go home, and it’s empty. Kuroo’s there, and I love him, he’s my best friend, but he’s been different lately, he’s been sad, and it drags me down too, and I don’t like it. I like _you._ ” 

Hinata’s arms clutched Kenma’s waist, and he buried his head against Kenma’s shoulder. 

“This house is empty too,” he breathed. “It’s so big, and usually I’m the only one here, but if I’m not then it’s still empty since it’s filled with empty people. I don’t know anyone downstairs, Kenma.”

Kenma buried his nose deeper in Hinata’s hair. “You have your team. They’re your family.”

“But I want _you_ to be a part of that too.” 

He shivered. “I do too.” He tightened himself further around Shouyou, inhaling through his nose and releasing shuddering breaths through his mouth. Shouyou’s hair billowed around him, tangling with Kenma’s black strands, and Kenma watched as the colors mixed and blended around each other. 

He wished that he wouldn’t have to let go.

“They’re real,” he murmured, with his lips pressed against Shouyou’s temple. Shouyou hummed questioningly, and he elaborated. “The tails. And the ears.”

Silence. 

“I used to be a house cat, a long time ago. But the home I lived in caught fire one day, and I didn’t make it out. The next time I woke up, my body was similar to that of the people who owned me, but I still had my ears and had grown an extra tail. Apparently,” he grinned wryly, keeping the outline of his smile against Shouyou’s head, “house cats are reborn as Yokai if they’re deemed worthy enough.”

Tremulously, Shouyou’s shoulders shook. 

“Kuroo found me, and told me what had happened. Same thing happened to him, except he died a little differently. And he took me to his home, introduced me to Bokuto, who was never anything mundane. He had these huge wings, with a wing span longer than his own body.” Kenma sighed. “He looks empty without them now, but his eyes are happier.”

He took a breath. “The world that we lived in is similar to yours, but not the same. There’s no technology-”

“Is that why you don’t have a phone?” Shouyou peeped quietly. 

Kenma nodded, his chin bumping against his head. “We have houses like yours, though. And we have a holiday that falls on the same day as Halloween, except it only lasts a couple hours. The Witching Hour - that’s what we call it - is the only time of the year when we can cross into the human world and interact with mortals. Only between midnight and three in the morning, for three measly hours, and then it'd close off for the rest of the year. Kuroo and Bokuto loved it. They would venture into the human world every year, while I stayed home, and crashed Halloween parties. They’d have their fun, then come home.

“At least, until Bokuto decided he’d had enough of being a Yokai. He found a human that he liked well enough, and just stayed here one year. He gave up his wings, his immortality, to stay by Akaashi’s side to grow with him and change with him.

“But Kuroo freaked out. So the next year he came back and dragged me with him. That was the first time I’d been back in the human world since I had become a Yokai, and I hated it. I didn’t understand how Bokuto would choose this over our home, especially when it was for a human.”

Shouyou shifted in Kenma’s arms. “What about now?” he asked. 

Kenma tucked himself closer. “I think I might understand now,” he answered and pulled back just enough to brush his lips against Shouyou’s. 

When they pull back, mouths salty from each other’s tears, Shouyou whispered, “That was a nice story.” 

“Yeah,” Kenma agreed softly. “It was.”

_2:19_

 

Time ran out much too quick. 

_2:30_

When Kenma’s watch blared obnoxiously, the two of them reluctantly untangled themselves from each other. Their hands remained clasped between them, though.

They didn’t say a word, Shouyou choking on tears and Kenma choking on his own heart. So Kenma gave Shouyou’s hand one hopeless squeeze and pulled a part. 

They said nothing as Kenma left the room. 

He found Bokuto and Kuroo waiting for him by the pick up truck. “Thanks, Kenma,” Kuroo murmured as he walked past, taking the back seat this while Kuroo climbed into the front. 

Closing the door behind him, Kenma watched the house in front of him forlornly. It was still spilling with laughter and music, but he knew there was at least one room that was completely silent. 

Kuroo followed his gaze. “Are you leaving too?” he asked grievously. 

Kenma couldn’t answer. 

 

The drive to the warehouse was silent, save for the broken clattering of the truck as it bumped down the road.

When they arrived, Kuroo climbed from the truck first. He glanced at Kenma, watched him analytically, then nodded his head. 

Approvingly. 

Then, he vanished through the old door. 

“Well,” Bokuto asked as Kenma paused, “what are you waiting for?”

He took a deep, shuddering breath.

“I need to talk to you.”

Bokuto’s eyebrows rose, and he glanced at his phone quickly. Kenma already knew what time it was. 

_2:53_

“I’ll make it fast.”

 

_They become something important._

 

The fifth Halloween, Kenma stepped into the human world with nothing but a brief hug from Kuroo to accompany him. 

Bokuto waited for him on the other side of the door. When Kenma stepped through, he hefted his hands to show off a bulky, black backpack. 

“This has everything you’ll ever need in it,” Bokuto boasted, patting the material of the backpack cheerily. “Oikawa - you remember Oikawa, right? - works in the government and knows all the dirty little tricks. Really helps in situations like these. We’ve got passports, social security numbers, bank accounts that won’t ever run out.” He unzipped a pouch, showing Kenma the papers and documents crammed inside. “You won’t have a problem.”

Kenma looked at it doubtfully. 

Sighing, Bokuto closed the pack. His smile dimmed into something gentler. “There’ll be a ton of culture shock,” he warned. “It was hard enough for me when I came over, and I’d spent years and years of Witching Hours before then. You’ve only been here a few times. But,” he passed the pack over to Kenma, “I can promise you that it’ll all be worth it.”

The backpack was quickly shrugged over his shoulders. 

“Alright!” Bokuto cheered. “So, here comes the hard part.” He pulled something from his pocket, an old rusted key, and placed it into Kenma’s upturned palm. “Is this something you really want to do?”

“It is.” 

He’d never been so sure of anything in his life. 

Gently, Bokuto angled him back to the door and tapped the key in his hand. 

“Lock the door behind you.”

Kenma nodded, and with a shaking hand, slipped the key into the old lock. He paused for a moment. 

He turned the key. 

 

Bokuto drove him to Tokyo. 

The ride was long, filled with several construction detours and even more honking cars. Bokuto was far from a cautious driver, swerving into small openings to make a turn and forcefully slamming on the brakes whenever they came to a stop. 

Kenma’s stomach began to feel a little queasy about an hour into it, but he never told Bokuto to slow down. 

Habitually, he glanced at the clock on the dashboard. Then, he scoffed and looked away before he could even read it. 

It didn’t matter what it said anymore. 

The drive turned into a tour when Bokuto pulled off the freeway, pointing out the best places to eat and the nicer establishments nearby, in case he ever wanted to take Hinata anywhere. 

Kenma didn’t comment, but he did make mental notes of a couple restaurants. 

“That’s the street you take to get to mine and Akaashi’s,” Bokuto pointed out as they drove through an intersection. The light had been yellow, and a car about to turn left honked angrily as they passed. “Although I guess it’s your place now too.”

Kenma looked behind them, watching the street sign as it faded into the distance. “Thank Akaashi for me tonight?”

Bokuto smirked. “Are you not planning on coming home tonight?” When Kenma blushed, Bokuto reached over to rub his knuckles against Kenma’s head. “Be safe, alright?” He winked.

Kenma’s blush darkened. A smile still graced his lips though. 

Finally, _finally_ , Bokuto stopped outside a tall building lined with rows of triangular windows. “Here it is!” Kenma opened the door, and Bokuto all but pushed him out the door. “D102,” he reminded him. “Say hi to him for me, would ya?”

Kenma nodded. “Thank you, Bokuto-san.”

“No need to thank me!” he yelled, already pulling away. “Just go already!”

And Kenma did. 

 

D102 was decorated for Halloween like all of the other doors in the hallway, but it was minimal. 

A small, plastic spider hung from a thumbtack shoved into the top of the doorframe, and it dropped to the ground with a hiss as Kenma approached. Thin cobwebs were stretched across the top right corner, and an empty orange bowl sat at Kenma’s feet with a small sign taped to it, asking that everyone only take one. 

After waiting for the spider to rise back into its original position, Kenma knocked hesitantly on the door. He shuffled his feet, mind running frantically to come up with anything to say, to explain his presence here. For all he knew, Shouyou had already forgotten about him and moved on. 

Kenma flinched at the thought. He hoped that Bokuto would’ve told him that before he turned the lock. 

The door swung open, and Kenma’s eyes snapped up. 

It wasn’t Hinata.

Horrified, Kenma backed up, apology tipping over his tongue. 

But then, he realized that the grumpy voice angrily muttering, “What the f-” was really familiar. 

“Kageyama-san?” he asked hesitantly. 

“What the hell do you want at 2 AM in the morning?” He angrily pushed his bangs from his face, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. 

He froze. The corners of his scowl ticked up discretely. “Kozume Kenma?”

Kenma nodded. “Is Shouyou here?”

Suddenly, a burst of laughter fell from Kageyama’s lips, and he fell against the door frame. He pointed into his dorm with a shaky finger. “He holed himself up in the bathroom to mope. Just go on in, lock doesn’t work anyway.”

Skittishly, Kenma darted past Kageyama. “I think I’ll go find somewhere else to sleep tonight,” he mocked, and closed the door behind him as he left. 

The dorm only had one other room aside from the one Kenma stepped into, its door shut tight and light seeping from through the cracks of it. 

He knocked before he entered. 

“Kageyama,” a dismal voice answered, and Kenma immediately pushed the door open, “I appreciate you trying to help, but you really suck at comforting peo- Kenma?”

Kenma’s feet danced anxiously, and he wrung his hands together in front of him. “Bokuto-san says hi.”

Shouyou launched himself at him. Kenma caught him happily, and directed his staggering so that they fell into the mattress. “What are you doing here?!” Shouyou screeched, pressing sloppy kisses across Kenma’s face. 

Underneath him, Kenma writhed. Not uncomfortably. 

Happily. 

“You told me I can visit,” he said, with a little smile, and Shouyou dissolved into a mess of quiet tears and loud exclamations of joy. Eventually, Kenma joined him and couldn’t keep himself from leaving his own kisses against Shouyou’s cheeks. 

“You know,” Shouyou laughed as he kissed the top of Kenma’s hair. “This is the first time I’ve seen you without your costume. I was starting to wonder if it was permanently attached.”

Kenma stilled.

He figured that the absence of his ears and tails would be the hardest thing to become accustomed to. His new ears, flat and rounded along the edges, didn’t have the dexterity nor the hearing of his own. And the absence of his tails hadn’t quite sunk in yet. If he sat really still, he could almost feel them brushing against his legs. 

But then Shouyou kissed the tip of his new ears, and he figured it might be worth it. 

“Do you have to catch a train today?”

“No,” Kenma whispered, pressing his smile against Shouyou’s cheek. “But you might have to drive me to my apartment later?”

Shouyou blinked at him, his eyes brimming with radiant hope. “Is it near here?”

Kenma hummed. “Do you know where Bokuto’s apartment is?”

And Shouyou smashed their lips together, desperately, happily, lovingly. “You’re staying with Bokuto?”

“At least until I can get my own apartment.” 

“Near here?”

“Of course.”

There was no distance between them anymore, and Kenma never wanted there to be ever again. 

As Shouyou dragged him even closer, the minute hand of the clock stuttered with a quiet tick that fell on deaf ears. . 

_3:01_

_And you give up everything to be with them._

**Author's Note:**

> i am not too proud of this one, gotta be honest here guys. too much content in so little time, but ya know what, it was fun to write so imma roll with it
> 
> if you wanna, you can leave a kudos or a comment. i appreciate every single one
> 
> and feel free to give me a follow on my tumblr, i promise i'm just as lame as i seem to be
> 
> also prob lots of typo's in this. if you see one, go head and point it out, it's such a huge favor, just be kind about it, a'ight


End file.
